3 months

Dear Amalia,
You are three months old, yesterday. (see?  I'm getting better at this!)  Yes, really. Though it feels like just last week that we first saw your precious face, it has, in fact, been three months.  In those three months, you have become a part of us, and completely altered our family forever.  And we are so grateful.

You are funny.  You smile and giggle and talk and talk and talk, almost like you are trying to get us to smile just as much as we are trying to get you to smile.  You get fantastic dimples on your cheeks when you smile, and your whole face scrunches us in complete joy.  Your chunky legs kick and your arms wiggle.  Your entire body is involved in your ever-joyful smile.  Your giggle is deep and from your belly.  You are ticklish under your chin  (when we can get under there!), on your chest, and on your feet.  You laugh also when your daddy laughs with you.  It is too adorable.

You are tolerant.  There are times, as the second child, where your face gets bopped by the stray sleeve of your sister's shirt, or Mommy has to lean over you to get to something else, or an entire host of other ways you are inconvenienced.  You don't seem to mind.  You watch us closely, and sit contentedly until the situation rights itself.  Then you coo at us some more.  It is awesome.

You are discovering your hands.  They can manipulate things.  They can manipulate themselves.  You can use them to put things into your mouth.  Or you can put them into your mouth!  Woot!  It is quite fun to extract your had from your mouth in order to feed you.

You are sleeping longer (thank goodness).  Just this week, you started sleeping 6 hour stretches.  It is fantastic.  Please to continue.

You have incredible lung power.  Your cry is not quiet, nor is your complaining.  When you are tired and ready for bed, or hungry and Mama is not feeding you instantly, you can get quite upset.  Though most of the time you are a very calm, quiet, relaxed little chica, there are times (most notably 7:30 pm, almost like clockwork) when you are not happy at all.  At those times, nobody can hear anything other than your cries.  They are quite loud.  You don't calm particularly easy when you get upset that way, and it is always a challenge to discover what will be the trick this day.  Daddy discovered you like to be held belly-down (sometimes).  Mommy figured out that bouncing on the trampoline will often calm you down.  Grandma found out that it sometimes works to hold you tight in our bed with a nuk and just wait.  Grandpa discovered that you prefer reggae-type songs sung right into your ear.

You love your sister.  Sofia loves to talk to you and cover you up and play with you like a little doll.  You eat up every minute.  You talk to her, you seek her out.  You smile at her.  It is precious.  She loves you, too, though she gets quite jealous when you get the attention.

You love your daddy.  You and your daddy have incredible conversations.  He holds you out in front of him, and the two of you chat and chat and chat.  You have quite the stories to tell.  You make all sorts of sounds and use inflection and everything.  It is pretty wonderful.

You love your mommy.  Nursing is still your favorite activity, and you definitely calm best with me.  We love to snuggle together and coo and talk and kiss and hug.  You are so sweet.  I love every minute.

Happy three months, Amalia Susan.  We all love you so very much, and really couldn't imagine our lives without you.  Was there ever a time when you weren't here?  I can hardly remember.

Loveyouforeverandalways,
Mama

Giving Thanks

It's Thanksgiving Eve, and I have successfully made a pumpkin cheesecake, and my grandma's cranberry salad.  Two girls are bathed and in bed.

Julio and my dad prepared the turkeys this morning - I've never had one quite so fresh.

It is nearly 10 pm,  and I still have to concoct a harvest stuffing, pack for an overnight stay for myself and two children.  I should really finish folding laundry.

Yet, I have to take a minute to give thanks for all the blessings in my life.  Sure, life isn't exactly as I had planned it, and we aren't exactly in an ideal situation.  But there are blessings.  So many blessings.

Blessing number 1 - my sweet Sofia.  You are my star, my goofy girl.  I love your spirit, your sass, your heart.  You bring me such joy.  I love watching you be a big sister, getting your baby sister to laugh, hugging her, showing pure love.  I love your hugs and kisses, your jokes, your dances, your smiles, your silly stories, your tea parties.  You made me a mommy.

Blessing number two - my darling Amalia.  You are pure love.  I am so grateful to watch you grow, and be a part of you.  I love the way you talk, constantly.   Happy conversations, complaining sounds, talking always.  I love your big and plentiful smile, the way your cheeks dimple in lots of places and your whole face smiles.  I love your little laugh, and how silly we all are in trying to hear it.  You blessed us this year with your life, and I am so happy and grateful that you are healthy and here with us.  

I am grateful for Julio.  A daddy with more love for his daughters than I could have imagined.  A man who works hard for his family always, whose struggles might make things more difficult, but who has remained strong.  A man I love more and more each day.  Life's experiences have given us our share of challenges, bringing us closer than before.  

I am grateful.  Happy Thanksgiving.

Bumbo!

Amalia has a new view of the world.

She's still a touch wobbly, so can only stay in it for a few minutes at a time, but she seems to like it!  She's been trying to sit up while in her swing chair or being held, so I knew she was ready.  Can't believe this child is growing so quickly.  She'll be three months old on Friday.

I got the pink!

Way back when, when Sofia was a little thing, about two and a half, I think, she got a stomach virus.  I tried to get her to throw up into the bucket.  A few days later, she got pink eye.  She came to me, miserable and mucusy and said, "Want to put my eye in the bucket."  When she talked to her Aunt Sarah, in a somber voice told her, "I got the pink."

I was reminded of that time (which always makes me laugh) today when Sofia got off the bus from school. She's got the pink.  Definitely got the pink.

Quick trip to fast care and a bribery toy later, we've got two doses of medicated eye drops in her, and a bonus diagnosis of an ear infection.

She's most upset that I have asked her not to touch Amalia's face.

ARGH!

I am at my wit's end.  I've been doing so well lately.  I've been patient.  I've been empathetic.  I've tried to let the consequences do the teaching.  It has been working.  Until tonight.

Anybody want a slightly-used, quite cute but rather whiny and oft sassy four-year-old?

Actually, anybody want a tired, slightly tubby, impatient, overwhelmed at times thirty-year-old?

I blew a fuse at Sofia.  Her very best friends in the world are visiting (hi jay and ella!) and naturally, all the contents of her room is residing on the floor.  Getting close to bedtime, I advise Sofia that if she wants her friends to sleep on the floor with her, there needs to be space for them, so they should pick up the toys.  Now, I know it can be overwhelming to pick up a crazy-mess of toys.  (apparently, it isn't so overwhelming to put them there in the first place)  Fine.  I know it is easier with a grown-up helping direct traffic.  But Amalia needed nursing, and I expected her to at least try.  No.  She ran around screeching.  She played piano.  She had a tea party.  She didn't put one thing away.  Not one thing.  I came in the room, set Amalia on the bed, and tried to help direct her.  Nothing.  No response.  She cuddled Amalia on the bed instead.  I said, that's fine.  I'll pick them up.  But when Mama picks them up she takes them away.  I started to pick them up, putting them in the laundry room.  Still nothing.  Not picking up.  And not only not picking up, pointedly smothering her sister, to where I now have to remove the baby.  Am livid.  I ask her, one more time, to help pick up.  "No, I'm not going to."

AHHHHHHHHHRHGGHGHAGGHHH!!!

Mr. Young informs me that she does, indeed, possess the skills to pick up her toys.  She does it every day without complaint at school.  Not only did I yell, quite loudly and definitely out of control (which I hate doing), I now have a laundry room full of toys.  I can't quite make myself donate the toys to GoodWill.  They are expensive, dammit!  I need to do laundry tomorrow.  Now what?
I'm still so pissed. Breathe.
I wish I hadn't yelled at her.  That isn't productive and overshadows her own behavior.  The real answer is to actually get rid of the toys.  I can't, though.  It's too harsh.  Gah.

Seriously, Mr. Hyde?  I want Dr. Jekyll back.

Sniffle Snuffle

So, two girls and one daddy are suffering the cough, mucus, sneezy, basically miserable cold.  Miraculously, I feel healthy as can be, but everyone else in my family is hacking up a lung.  The baby included.  Her first cold.  Not exactly one of the things I wanted to mark off so soon. Poor angel doesn't know what is happening to her, and every time she coughs, she cries from confusion.  Sofia and Amalia, however, are getting off easy.  They are coughing and sneezing, but otherwise seem basically unscathed.  Julio, on the other hand, is just miserable.  Somehow, he always seems to get the worst of every germ that comes through this place.

Laugh on!

Okay, I know I've been all Amalia all the time, but - we have our first laughs over here!  I so wish I had a video, but at least Sofia and Julio and I were all able to witness it together.  I was holding her, Julio tickled under her chin, and she laughed!  Ahahahaha!  I can't resist trying to sneak those giggles out of her all the time, now.
And speaking of laughing...know who laughs all the time?  You guessed it...Sofia!  She keeps us laughing, as well.  When she isn't busy making us want to pull our hair out and cry, that is.

2 Months

and one week, two days (but who is counting?)

Amalia, my love, you are two months old.  How can one little baby grow so much in just two short months?  How can life have ever existed before you were born?
In two months, you went from a chubby, cheeky newborn, to a 15 lb 8 oz, chubby, cheeky two month old.  You have the most kissable and smunchable cheeks in the world.  Sometimes, they get in the way of your smile.  You are staying awake longer and love to be entertained.  Smiles come easily now, and you especially like whistling and silly, smiling faces.  You coo.  All the time.  Happy coos, complaining coos, just talking coos.  Like right now.  You aren't crying, but you are cooing, telling me that you want some love!  I'd better go get you.

Okay, now you are here in my lap, watching me write this letter.  Also, you are asking to nurse.  You are always asking to nurse, then promptly spit it up.  Your hands and feet are always on the go, and even when nursing you are trying to stick your fist in your mouth.  It doesn't always work.  You still have thick, black hair that isn't showing any signs of falling out.  You hold your head up high, and like to look around and be part of the action.  You tolerate tummy time much better than Sofia did, and will lift up your head to look at me, though you don't like to stay there for very long.  Your eyelashes are starting to grow, framing your dark brown eyes.  You still have your little dimple on your right cheek, and a very loud voice.  Just ask Grandma and Grandpa.  On Wednesday nights, when I am in class and Daddy is at work, they get to look after you.  And boy, you don't like it!  At least at bedtime.  When you are tired, you work yourself up into such a state, and it is impossible for anyone other than Mommy to comfort you.  You cry and cry and cry, making both Grandma and Grandpa want to cry, too.  Eventually, you fall asleep from pure exhaustion, usually cradled in Mama and Papa's bed, where you can smell us.  When I get home, and you wake up to nurse, I can feel your relief as you melt into my arms, sighing a comforted sigh.  Oh, how I love you.